


Unconditionally

by lilyleaf



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), First time posting on here!, POV Second Person, some fluff at the end?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyleaf/pseuds/lilyleaf
Summary: Every night he steals into your room...





	Unconditionally

You aren’t certain what time of night he steals into your room, but it is nightly. Sometimes the sucking sound of the void rouses you from your sleep, other times it does not. Sometimes the sound of clothing being removed wakes you, but occasionally it does not. This evening, neither gives pause to your slumber as you drift through your dreams. With the windows open wide, the room has a certain chill to it, though your blankets keep you warm enough, yet another presence causes the covers to heat up. Your eyes clamp shut, but then they flutter open to the darkness, but you are far from alone now and you cannot help but enjoy the addition to the room. The blankets shift, the cold air flooding beneath them, but then you feel a heat press against your body, bare skin against yours.

A low hum builds in Emet-Selch’s throat as you feel his lips find your collarbone, his kiss sloppy and wet against your cool skin. “To think I was wishing to surprise you tonight, but I only caused you to wake. Such a disappointment.” He breathes against your flesh, the heated air billowing over your collarbone and shoulder. You can feel his hands begin to roam over your naked body, fingertips gracing over every curve as he explores you just as he does every night. You groan in protest after having been in your deep sleep, but truthfully you are glad he is here yet again. Every night he joins you in your bed is a night of intimacy and pleasure while combining with some emotion that you cannot quite place. Maybe it is a trick of your own mind that you feel a sense of togetherness and longing, a strange familiarity that threads between the two of you. Of course, that could be a silly assumption. 

His mouth sweeps across your sternum, never venturing down the curve of your breast, but he finds a particular spot that suits him as you feel one leg draping over your body so he can straddle your thighs. “Do you ever think that maybe one evening I want to get a full night’s sleep?” you ask sleepily, sarcastically, as your hands lift the blankets to help accommodate him to crawl on top of you, betraying the question posed.

The heat of his mouth lifts from your skin and in the dark you can make out his head tilting up to look at you. Though his lips retreat from the place on your chest, his hands never stop roving up and down your sides, gripping the flesh of your hips before trailing upward to your ribs where his thumbs reach wide and brush over the bottom of your breast. “You’d miss me too much. Do not act as though you are not wrapped around my fingers. I have you…” His head bows so his lips can find your chest where they drag roughly over your skin, down to the cleft between your breasts. “... In my grasp.” Punctuating this statement you know to be true, he buries his face against your chest and you can feel his shoulders raise as he drinks in your scent. Your hands find find his stiffened shoulders before your fingers quest for his dark hair, digits knitting in the soft, wavy strands so you can hold him in place.

“You’re being awful gentle tonight,” you point out, voice tremulous and thin when you feel his mouth start to move over your now pricked, gooseflesh skin. “Is there a soft side in there somewhere?”

A pluming breath escapes Emet-Selch in a faint laugh, the exhalation warm and swift as it blankets over your chest. “You know I am not always rough. Tonight I’m feeling… Sentimental.” You expect him to keep talking as he is wont to do at times, but words never leave him further. Despite not fully understanding, there is a sliver of you that knows he is trying to relive ages long past when the two of you would revel in the presence of one another. Oh, if only you could remember as he has begged you to do before.

Beginning to leave little nips and nibbles in his wake, his head vanishes beneath the blankets leaving only a lumpy silhouette of his form, and you feel him begin to travel away from your chest and further down your torso to the soft flesh of your abdomen. Instinctually your back arches to meet his mouth and in return his tongue lavishes a sweeping line over your skin. “I try to take things slow and here you are being eager. Whatever am I to do with you.” Under the concealment, you feel a hand find your hip where he pushes you back down to the mattress. “Hold still. Let me enjoy this.”

You do as he bids, but it is far more difficult than you could ever anticipate. Though he straddles your legs, keeping your knees pressed together, you try to spread them to which he only firmly keeps himself in place. A scolding ‘tut, tut’ sounds from the form under the sheets and between him restraining you and him having his way, you can feel a certain hot pressure build in your core. “Keep those together. I will do with you as I please this evening.” His voice is like velvet and though deep down you know he is only speaking a half-truth, hearing him be so dominating only sends a trill coursing down your spine. You feel his body shift completely, working himself down further so your legs aren’t straddled, but you feel his mouth on your pelvis. 

Your face screws up in anticipation and again you try to spread your legs, and this time he allows you to do such, even going so far as to hooking a hand on your inner thigh to help you widen the distance. “See, and to think you didn’t want me to show up. The way your body reacts tells me otherwise.” Over the soft skin of your pelvis does his tongue lash out to leave a wet path in its wake and you can hear him hum in quiet delight after his tasting is over. He makes a shushing noise as you feel his hands move, gripping at your legs to keep them apart as he shifts further down until his breath washes over the apex between your thighs. 

The next moments pass achingly slow as you wait for his next target, and after a time you feel his wet, pink tongue dart out to lick at your lips. It’s a languid motion, one that speaks of reverence, and the combination of his slow movements and his eagerness causes your breath to hitch in your throat. You gasp as your hands try to find purchase in his hair, fingertips only barely grazing over the tresses where you latch onto what you can. This elicits a growled chuckle from him and he takes your reaction as permission to continue further which he does by pressing his tongue harder against your slit. He licks up, tip of his tongue dipping between your petals before the flat of his tongue finds the swelling bundle of nerves at the top. Once, then twice does his mouth pass over your womanhood, but when his journey ends instead of starting over again does he then start to suck at your clit. Immediately does your body react in kind, hips lifting up to meet his mouth and hands twisting in his hair, signalling the heated waves that start to rush over your body. In turn another husky chuckle can be heard under the sheets and every exhalation of breath blankets over your now wet folds, product of him.

But before he can start his onslaught again, Emet-Selch pauses to which you groan in protest. You want his ministrations on your body, you want him to lavish you with his tongue, and for him to stop so soon is more of a tantalizing tease than unhindered pleasure. Your body rocks, heels digging into the bed so you can pull yourself further down, the blanket riding up to your chin as you do so. There’s a quick, snapping slap on the side of your hip followed by a scolding noise. “Calm yourself, my dear. You think that is all I wished for?” The moment the question drips from his mouth does he begin again, only this time with a pair of fingers sliding up and down your lips, spreading them gently though he never dives back in. “Oh so ready so soon; to think I have this wanton effect on you. I can’t work with you squirming about this like. Steady…” he commands as the tips of his fingers find your opening where he twists his wrist so his knuckles can be coated in your juices. Ever so slowly does he push the digits in further, questing forth within your depths until he is at his second set of knuckles, then finally hilting his fingers entirely into your body. A sigh draws from his lips as your hips spasm against his hand and his forearm and elbow heavily presses down on your thigh to keep you in place. “Do not move until I tell you. Disobey again,” he pauses so his mouth can find your opposite thigh where he gently bites your flesh, “and consider this evening concluded.” The way his tone rides the fine line between need and disappointment makes a shiver course over your body and you do your best to comply as bidden, but his fingers start to curl loosely against your walls. 

You start to cry out, but one of your hands release his hair to dart up to your face to cover your mouth with your palm. “There’s a good hero,” he breathes, voiced muffled as his lips are still on your skin, as his arm starts pumping slightly, fingers pulling out and pushing in slowly. “Your window is open; you wouldn’t want the whole Crystarium to hear, now would you? O Warrior of Darkness, spending the night enthralled in pleasure. What would the people think?”

The need to volley back a biting retort is strong, but before you can say anything his fingers sharply curl to press against the swollen spot behind your pelvis and his mouth finds your clit again, so instead you can only whimper loudly through your fingers. He knows exactly how to work you as though he has done such for eons past, and your body is fully receptive to his doting. The more he beckons you, the more he sucks and licks on your folds, the closer you are to coming to your edge and he knows it. 

The reverberation of his hum buzzes against your slit and it takes all you can not to writhe into his palm and face, to push yourself over the event horizon and let pleasure take hold of you. You try to relay this to him, try to tell him that you are so close, and as he reads your sounds and feels your walls begin to clench, all touches stop entirely as his head lifts up and his fingers leave you completely. You whine in protest, your hand relinquishing your grip on his hair so you can slam your palms down on the bed beside you. A sly laugh at your anger billows from under the blankets, but this is muted by the sound of him sucking on his fingers. 

The concealed form shifts and you can feel his body start its ascent up yours, he crawling out from under the covers. His nose brushes between your breasts just before his head pushes back the quilt and the first thing you feel after his reveal is his lips finding the line of your jaw. “Upset, are we? Well, you cannot have it all. Selfish, tsk tsk. Far be it from me to allow you all the fun.” His lips traverse over your jaw and down your neck as one of his hands finds your body while the other holds him aloft just barely. The feel of his mouth against your thin skin and the roaming of his hand is a strange dichotomy from earlier. It is soft, gentle, and loving, a kind of touch that only two lovers could share. Your hands too find him, arms wrapping around him so your fingers can dance down the musculature of his broad shoulders and arched back as he begins to position himself between your legs, limbs tangling around one another. There is a beat in time after his mouth peppers kisses on your shoulder that he leans up so your foreheads press against each others. In the darkness you see his eyes are closed and that he seems to be reveling in the warm closeness the two of you share. You think, for a time, that he must be remembering something, as he has mentioned to you in the past on more than one occasion. You wonder what it is, and you scold yourself for not being able to remember with him. A flaw of being so shattered and broken. You begin to ask, you want to know what he is thinking of, but as though he can read your mind his head shakes and lifts from you so his long lash rimmed gold eyes meet your gaze. Though it is dark, you can see the strange swirling of sadness, longing, and kindness all coalescing together and it only pains you further that you cannot ever know.

But he speaks naught as his hand slides under the small of your back, arm angling your hips upward as his back bows, other hand pushing him up so there is now a gap between your torsos where you feel the cool air flood between you both. He adjusts himself and, though you felt his stiff length resting against your belly, the tip drags down until it slides over your pelvis and down your slit, poised where your opening is. Instinctually one of your legs lift, hooking around his waist, opening yourself up to him as he pleases. The way he pushes his hips down is easy, gentle, and you being so wet makes it incredibly easy for him to slide his crown between your petals and inside you. You inhale sharply, his fingers never being able to do justice to his girth, and you will yourself to relax despite wanting to clench in anticipation. Carefully, slowly, he plunges himself in, stretching your walls as you feel his shaft twitch before he’s sheathed entirely.

A breath leaves him as his face screws up, though it is not from anguish, but rather desire. Hovering over you, his expression grows lax and he fixes his stare on yours. As though there is an unspoken ‘you are mine’, he pulls himself out slightly before plunging back in, this time with less feather softness and now with more power behind his hips. There’s a soft rocking of the bed before it goes still until he pulls out a second time and, again rougher, pushes into you once more. Both thrusts sent heat waves rolling through your body and you can feel your womanhood begin to ache once more. 

He ,seeming to know this, creates a smirk on his lips and this time without stopping he begins his rhythm of rocking into you, grinding the two of you together so he can hit every facet of your walls. The two of you are fixed together, his arm still around your body and your leg still wrapped about his waist. Your hands reach up so your fingertips can graze over his cheekbones, then to find his hair as you did before. With the touch you push the streak of white from his brow before you knit your digits into his locks, holding them tight so it kicks his head back. A breathy sort of chuckle escapes him and it triggers a reaction that zips straight to his hips, the bucking picking up pace now. A moan tumbles from your mouth unable to be contained and this only urges him forward as he begins to roughly drive himself deep within, the bed now creaking along with the slapping of flesh against flesh. “More,” he beckons, voice thread bare. “More.” Though he mentioned the window being open earlier, the two of you care not, as it is the last thing you both are concerned over. You do as he commands, your voice rising in tandem with his breathing.

From the arm that’s looped around your waist, you feel his fingertips start to dig into your skin and though it hurts, it only adds to the pleasure. Your back arches, body rising up so your chests press together and you can feel the slick sheen of sweat beginning to form on your bodies despite the room being cool. Over and over does he pound into you, head bowing against your hands that hold his hair tight. You can hear his breathing becoming more rapid and ragged, his own grunts playing on each exhalation. His shaft seems to stiffen more inside of you as his thrusts begin to take on an erratic, though syncopated pattern. Through your own foggy, lust-hazed eyes you can make out the look of sheer need etched on the lines of his face, his brows knitted together tightly though not of a scowl. Craving the closeness, you yank your leg around his hip, pulling him down to you so he can only ride you at his base. This catches him by surprise and your eyes meet for a split second as you are now able to make out that his pupils are blown wide not only from the darkness of the room, but from the adrenaline and sex. 

The way he starts to heavily grind into you only hits your deepest caverns, sending shocks of electricity to wind its way through your body until it pools in your core as pressurized need. Over and over does he buck his hips, rutting as far as he can until you start to hear his own groans of need rival your mewls and moans. Your dripping walls begin to flutter and your muscles begin to contract around him, a sensation that you urge to burst forth. He knows how close you are, just as you know how close he is to toppling over the edge. The arm once around your hip shifts to pull out from under you, first his hand gripping at your side then, when unsatisfied with that hold, he reaches up to cup at your neck. 

“Together,” he chokes out, and though you know he would never admit such, you can hear a plead tickling his tone. There is no hesitation when he speaks the single word, and you can already feel the molten core within your body start to flood your senses. From the combined sensation of him repeatedly slamming himself into you and from the shared thread of what may be adoration, you let yourself loose, your body beginning to unravel as your orgasm begins to take hold. Your body spasms against his as your voice fills the room and travels out the window, your head throws itself back for the sound to carry. Your hips jerk skyward, letting him hit the deepest parts of you, and you know that change in angle is exactly what he needs to find his release. With a subdued, but equally as heady moan, his length slams into you a final time as you feel him throb uncontrollably.  
Writhing and squirming beneath him, your body starts to come down from it’s high, your breathing labored and catching in your throat. At some point when your hands found his back, you notice that your nails had dug into his skin, knowing that red welts will adorn him for a time, or at least until he wills them to go away. The sound of his breathing mixes with yours as he looms over you, head bowed and hair, brown and white, create a curtain around his face. Unwillingly, you relinquish the grip on his back so your hands slide down, threatening to leave him entirely, but you catch yourself to instead cup his face in your palms as you look up to him. He says nothing for a time, which he is wont to do after evenings like this, but his eyes slowly open to not stare at you, but a spot somewhere between your clavicles as he remains firmly seated inside your womanhood. Slowly he lowers himself down, off to one side, where he rolls to lay down beside you, slipping out of you as he does so. You feel a sense of loneliness when he does this and at first you don’t dare speak or even look at him, afraid that your words would detract from the moment just shared. Silence is needed, you can tell, and you decide that laying there is for now the only option. 

Then ever so slightly does he move beside you, the bed shifting under his weight as he rolls onto his side and his arms quest for your body where he pulls you close and buries his face in your hair. Often times, after he steals into your room, he leaves shortly there after; some nights he stays nearby either sitting on the bed or in a chair waiting for you to fall asleep. This night is different in both his actions and the unspoken words between you as the two of you lay there while being in his arms.

Finally confidence rises in you and, though you are looking at the ceiling and not him, you lick your lips and begin to speak. “You loved me,” you whisper, the words a statement and not a question.

“Unconditionally.”


End file.
